What can I say about today? That I’ve done enough writing at work already that I’ve got almost nothing left to say anymore? Well I suppose that’s not too far from the truth, but what I really think is the matter is that once I’m in a relaxed state, it’s somewhat pointless to write reflexively anymore, because the moment has passed.

As much as I like blogging, I’ve don’t think I’ve gone further than telling you what’s on my mind. I try to incorporate structure by carving out The Curated Day series, but that’s not strong editorial and I’d just like you to know that.

That writing is hard, or it can be hard, and even with certain structures in place, you know you can do better.

Why am I not satisfied with this post? Because it feels contrived, because it feels dated, because it feels like I’m just doing this for the sake of doing it, because no one reads it, because even if someone reads it, no one will get it. It’s equal parts frustration as much as it is liberation to be able to type in here and just tell anyone that.

I started doing these sessions to find my way back to blogging regularly again (and also to buy myself some time so that there won’t be long gaps between the last article and the next magnum opus), and i suppose part of chronicling that journey also means putting in the not so good stuff, the dreary moments, the uninspired thoughts, the B-sides and episode fillers.

I think today feels that way, and I’m highlighting it to you now, because it seems like I’ve identified a portion of what’s not making me happy (yet makes me happy to just freely type), and I’m in two minds as to whether I should rectify it or leave it as it is. Knowing myself, and the current nature of this blog, I’ll just tackle both issues at the same time.

One thing I do know, is that this isn’t the way a professional-anything should be presenting themselves, but there’s beauty and char-grin in that this isn’t a professional-anything blog (yet?), but a pure unadulterated and unfiltered mess of noise onto the Internet.

I’d heard about the mad, depraved genius of The Brian Jonestown Massacre as opposed to The Dandy Warhol’s straight-up attempt to garage rock, courtesy of a band mate I once had in Perth. I don’t think I appreciated it as much as I did then, than I do now. Vice conducted an interview with lead-singer, Anton Newcombe and I picked out my favourite parts, that whisper utter genius to me.

What do you think when you hear someone say, “Do you believe in God?”

I am more interested in what God thinks of man than of what man thinks of God.

Is it possible that our bodies have been getting in the way of connecting and that the internet is where our minds and spirits and ideas will all truly meet?

That explains the vast wasteland of Facebook. Fuck the internet. Ideas are where it’s at, not virtual hangouts and mindless chatter.